Intrusion
by Windchimed
Summary: Inspired by Milner's new "The First Time" story, this is a modern-day one-shot where Tris and Tobias meet in a very unusual manner.


**_A/N: This story was inspired by Milner's new "The First Time" story, which is a "bunch of one shots done for fun on the different ways Tris and Tobias could possibly meet in the modern day." Thank you very much, Milner, for the idea and for giving me permission to borrow it for this one-shot story! And yes, this is a single-chapter story, everyone; I have nothing whatsoever in mind to develop it further, but please check out Milner's story if you like the concept behind this (and read her other stories for that matter – they're wonderful!)._**

**_Thank you also to BK2U, who kindly beta-read this story for me!_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the "Divergent" series or the characters that came from it. Those belong to Veronica Roth._**

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**Intrusion**

The young man is sprawled across the entirety of the couch, too tall even for its extra-long size. His brown hair is tousled despite its short length, and he seems decidedly the worse for wear from whatever he did last night – a reality evidenced by the way he groans in his sleep as he tries to shield his eyes against the morning light.

None of that matters to the young woman who occupies this apartment. She's far more concerned with the fact that he's here at all, in _her_ home. When she's never met him before.

"Wake up!" she snarls at him, nudging him with the pistol that she's holding before backing up and aiming it steadily at him. She keeps her stance solid, ensuring her aim will be accurate if she needs to fire. It's how she learned the skill years ago, and while she can't say she ever envisioned this particular scenario, she's still glad that she's prepared for an intruder breaking into her house.

He opens his eyes groggily, mumbling something incoherent as he shifts on her sofa, turning toward the noise and the annoying poking sensation that interrupted his slumber. He freezes when he sees her – or more accurately, when he sees the barrel of the gun aimed directly at his head.

"Whoa," he says, startled, sitting up quickly before his panicked brain can decide if that's a good idea or if it's likely to get him shot. Belatedly, he raises his hands in a clear gesture of surrender. "Don't shoot me! Zeke said I could stay here."

"Zeke?" she asks, bewilderment and distrust combining in her voice.

"Yeah. He said it was fine." Increasing his volume, he yells, "Zeke, get out here and call your girlfriend off before she kills me!"

The woman tilts her head, her long, dirty-blond hair forming a messy tangle around her face as she considers the stranger before her. "_Zeke_ said it was fine to sleep here?" Her voice is disbelieving, and she raises a skeptical eyebrow. "My _neighbor_, Zeke, said that?"

"Yea…." He stops mid-word as the rest of her sentence sinks in through the adrenaline that's causing his brain cells to bounce inside his skull. His voice cracks as he adds, "Your…_what_?"

Slowly, he looks around the apartment, taking in its neat appearance, its plain gray walls, and its small television set with no obvious gaming console. This place looks nothing like how his friend would live.

"This isn't Zeke's apartment?" he asks in a last-ditch hope that the situation is salvageable.

"No." The single, terse word kills that hope as thoroughly as if she'd fired the gun.

"But…but he had a key for it," the man stutters, still unable to wrap his mind around what's happening. "He gave me his keys and told me to crash on his couch. Second door on the right after coming up the stairs." His expression is pleading.

The woman sighs, lowering the gun to her side, though she doesn't put it down yet. "Those directions are accurate – if you come up the correct staircase. He lives right across the hall." The hint of a smile plays across her lips as she adds, "And as my _neighbor_, he has a spare key in case I get locked out. I have one of his, too."

"Oh." The man sits forward, warily lowering his arms now that she's not threatening to blow his head off. He rests his elbows on his knees and rubs his temples slowly as a sheepishness that he's not used to feeling creeps into him. "So…basically, I just broke into a complete stranger's apartment and spent the night on her couch with absolutely no invitation whatsoever?"

"That pretty much sums it up, yes." She can't quite keep her smile from growing at his look of abject embarrassment. It certainly doesn't help that he's cute, the red on his face offsetting the deep blue of his eyes quite nicely – now that she's not afraid of him anymore.

"Oh," he says again, looking utterly lost on how to proceed. "I am really, _really_ sorry."

For another second, she stares at him, absorbing the full absurdity of the image – of this tall, muscular man sitting on her couch, his entire form radiating discomfiture as he gazes up at her like a dog that knows it's in trouble.

She laughs.

It's definitely not the reaction he expected, but the more he watches her, the more he begins to appreciate the hilarity of their situation. He may still have to kill his friend for putting him in this position, but at least his own death seems less imminent now. And whoever this woman is – well, there are far worse sights than seeing her laugh, wild energy lighting up her grayish-blue eyes.

She's pretty, he realizes, in an understated, first-thing-in-the-morning, just woke up to find a stranger on her couch kind of way.

"I'm Tris," she says, her tone rich with amusement as she takes a seat in one of the two plush chairs that face toward the couch.

"Tobias," he responds, deciding not to use his nickname, Four, right now. Somehow, it seems like a bad idea to introduce himself as a number on top of everything else.

"How do you know Zeke?" she asks, reaching up to wipe a tear of laughter from her cheek.

"We were roommates in college, and have stayed friends ever since." He shrugs. "I'm in the process of moving back here from New York, and he offered to let me stay with him until my apartment is ready."

"Wait…. Does that mean you just got here from New York yesterday?" Her voice is startled.

He nods. "Actually, it might have been this morning. I got in late, and Zeke sent me upstairs to get some sleep while he put my stuff in the storage area." He looks around, suddenly wondering why his friend didn't notice that he never made it where he was supposed to be. Knowing him, he probably stumbled back to bed without even looking.

"So…" Tris begins. "Basically, you just got into the city and ended up sleeping in a complete stranger's apartment…and woke up to a gun in your face with absolutely no idea why?"

A slow grin spreads over Tobias' face at the way she mirrored his words from earlier. "That pretty much sums it up, yes," he responds deliberately.

This time, they both laugh.

"I'm going to make some eggs," Tris announces as she gets to her feet, the gun casually dangling by her side as she heads toward the small efficiency kitchen on the other side of the room. "Would you like any?"

Tobias watches her for a second before rising, too, stretching his long body as an enormous yawn takes over his face.

"Tell you what," he says. "How about I take you out for breakfast? It seems like the least I can do." A low chuckle emanates from deep in his throat. "You know, as payment for the night's lodgings."

Tris glances over her shoulder at him. "That's not the usual definition of bed and breakfast, Tobias."

He grins, finding it harder and harder not to the longer they talk. There's a definite draw with her.

"It's not a usual first date, either," he answers, deadpan. "But I'd still like to give it a try."

This time, she turns fully around, staring at him levelly. "You know, if this is how you get dates, you have a serious problem."

He laughs again. "But it's so effective." He makes a spreading motion with his hands at knee-level. "Set the bar _really_ low, and then there's nowhere to go but up."

It's impossible not to chuckle in response, though she makes a commendable effort as she shakes her head and tries to keep her face straight.

She can't imagine ever making a worse first impression than she did with this man – in her pajamas, with wild bedhead and no make-up, pointing a gun at him and snarling in anger. Yet here he stands, asking her out.

And really, what does she have to lose by saying yes? If Tobias were dangerous, he would have hurt her during the night. This was obviously a genuine mix-up, as some part of her must have known all along. After all, she didn't call the police.

"How can I resist an offer like that?" she finally says.

An hour later, clean and wearing actual clothes and having left a note for a still-sleeping Zeke, they walk down the hallway, nudging each other in easy comradery.

"You know," Tris comments, smirking just a little, "if this is the worst thing you ever do, we'll get along fine, Tobias."

_**A/N: Reviews are much appreciated! And please check out my other stories. :-)**_


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